


Adam Parrish and the Ravenclaw Boy

by downtownfishies



Series: TRC at Hogwarts [1]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-26 18:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12563740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downtownfishies/pseuds/downtownfishies
Summary: Once you got past the magic, there seemed very little difference between Hogwarts and the Muggle primary school Adam had attended as a child.The exception, of course, was Gansey, but Adam didn’t believe that for a second.





	Adam Parrish and the Ravenclaw Boy

**Author's Note:**

> When I was trying to Sort the Raven Cycle characters into Hogwarts Houses (as you do), a friend suggested trying to put one in each House. As a result I thought a great deal about Adam as a Muggleborn in Slytherin House. While I would hope that, following the Second War, House relations would improve, I don’t imagine it to be an overnight process and everything has to start somewhere. This is a story that places the Raven Boys at Hogwarts, and considers the events of the Harry Potter books canon, but bits of the paranormal world of Henrietta and Cabeswater might also pop up here and there. At press time, this was only the beginning.

By the time he had finished his second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Adam Parrish was at the top of every class. He had been the first student in the year to successfully brew a Swelling Solution, and had mastered the art of turning beetles into buttons so quickly that the Transfiguration professor had begun setting him homework from the third year textbook. Adam had plenty of time to study his advanced coursework because he had also mastered the art of avoiding his fellow students.

Once you got past the magic, there seemed very little difference between Hogwarts and the Muggle primary school Adam had attended as a child. Three years ago his classmates had looked down on him for his secondhand clothes, and his schoolteachers had praised his cleverness in one breath and called him _strange_ and _not quite right_ in the next.

Then he had come to Hogwarts, still with secondhand clothes and books, and found himself surrounded by boys and girls whose great-great-grandfathers had all been wizards. The other students in Slytherin House laughed when he fumbled Quidditch terms or got startled by talking paintings, and the rest of the school viewed Slytherin-- and Adam-- with a thinly veiled suspicion he didn’t understand. The strangeness his Muggle teachers had complained of had perhaps been magic, but the Hogwarts teachers still gave him worried looks from time to time. They endeavored to pair him with friendlier classmates, his Head of House encouraged him to fit in, but Adam knew where he wasn’t wanted. He focused on what he was good at-- his schoolwork-- and kept his distance from the scorn and pity of his peers.

When he began his third year, this suddenly became much more difficult.

 

His first class of the fall term was Herbology. He ate breakfast quickly and left the Great Hall while his classmates were still groggily stirring their coffee. Arriving twenty minutes early to class was his favorite way to squeeze in a bit of extra reading, and he wanted to get through the introduction to _Numerology and Gramatica_ before his first Arithmancy lesson that afternoon. Even Professor Longbottom was not at the greenhouses yet. Taking an educated guess at which greenhouse they’d be studying in that morning, Adam sat on the ground outside it and took out the textbook. It was easily the largest of the books he’d bought at Diagon Alley this summer.

It seemed like no time at all before he heard footsteps approaching. He looked up quickly and realized that it had been almost no time at all-- there was only one student coming up the path. The boy gave Adam a friendly smile.

“Don’t mind me,” he said, and sat down a few feet away and pulled out his own copy of _Numerology and Gramatica_.

Adam did mind. He hadn’t made much effort to learn other students’ names, but _everyone_ knew Richard Gansey. (A girl in his House had said as much to Adam during his very first week, when he had made the mistake of asking.) Gansey’s family was rich, his parents were prominent members of the wizarding community, and he could trace his genealogy back to 12th-century dragon breeders, but he didn’t, because that wouldn’t be polite. His sister had been Head Girl and Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Gansey was good in every subject (people said) and had distinguished himself in last spring’s Quidditch final by not letting in a single goal. He was nice, too, although Adam would never have admitted it aloud. Last year, Professor Sargent, who taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, had paired Adam and Gansey together so often for spell practice that the other Slytherin boys started to notice. Since being noticed by Kavinsky’s gang was one of Adam’s least favorite things, he’d put Gansey at the top of his list of _people to avoid_. Gansey persisted in not taking note of this.

He turned a page. Adam had been reading the same sentence about the magical properties of the number seven for the past five minutes. He did not look at Gansey.

Adam managed a couple more pages, glancing at his watch every few minutes, before sliding his book back into his bag. Gansey followed suit.

“Are you any good at this?” he asked, nodding towards the greenhouses.

Before Adam could think how to reply, he was interrupted by the rest of the Slytherins and Ravenclaws. They were arriving to class a little more quickly than usual, as many of them were chasing a bookbag which had been bewitched to fly. Gansey reached into the pocket of his robes. His face showed an expression of disapproval Adam associated with teachers and mothers on TV as he pulled out his wand, but Professor Longbottom’s arrival preempted him.

“ _Finite incantatem_ ,” he said calmly, and with a flick of his wand he sent the bag back to its owner, a Ravenclaw boy so small the bookbag nearly knocked him over. “Five points from Slytherin, Mr. Kavinsky. Save the levitation for Charms class. We’re in Greenhouse Two today, everyone!”

He led the class to the second greenhouse. Adam glanced at Kavinsky out of the corner of his eye as they entered-- if he cared at all about losing House points, he didn’t show it.

Adam assumed that the arrival of the other Ravenclaws would give Gansey someone else to talk to, but when Professor Longbottom called for them all to sit down, Gansey appeared in the seat beside him. Longbottom set them reviewing the properties of shrivelfigs, with a hint this might come up in Potions class this term. As they progressed through this, and onto actually harvesting Abyssinian shrivelfigs from their plants, Adam realized what Gansey had meant by his earlier question.

Gansey was _not_ any good at this. When they traded papers to check each other’s work, it seemed Gansey had gotten shrivelfigs confused with Aberystwyth scurvy-grass (which was _completely_ different). He had a theoretical understanding of how to remove the figs from the stalk, but ran into trouble in practice. It took him twice as long as Adam to remove the first one, so he pulled the second off so forcefully it went flying and hit Professor Longbottom in the face. Gansey was hardly the only person in the class having trouble (Adam’s housemate Skov had evidently bruised most of his beyond usefulness) but Adam was startled to see the famous Gansey struggling in a class. He slowed his pace a little, showing Gansey what he was doing. They managed to finish harvesting the plant just as the bell rang. Longbottom dismissed them all with a friendly but firm request to review plant-handling techniques in their textbooks.

Gansey surprised Adam by jogging to catch up with him on the walk back to the castle-- Adam had fled quickly to get ahead of the crowd as usual.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Don’t mention it,” Adam replied.

“You’ve got History of Magic next, yeah?”

“We all have,” Adam said tersely, wishing he would go away.

“Are you good at that, too?”

“Yes,” said Adam, and before he could stop himself, he added, “are you?”

Gansey nodded happily. “It’s my favorite. I saw Professor Malory in the Great Hall this morning and he hinted we might be covering Medieval this term. Do you know much about Medieval Welsh kings?”

  


Gansey talked all the way to the History of Magic classroom. He knew a lot about Welsh kings, and was describing-- in rather more detail than Adam thought was necessary-- a 15th-century uprising against the English when he was distracted by their arrival. He made a beeline for a boy who sat at the back of the classroom and scowled at everyone. Ronan Lynch. It could have been Adam’s imagination, but Lynch’s scowl seemed to fade slightly as Gansey sat down beside him. Adam took advantage of the distraction and crossed to the other side of the room. He took a seat beside a girl who was determinedly attempting to embroider her bookbag using magic. She didn’t look up. He wondered if wizards ever just used a sewing needle, but he didn’t say anything.

  


That week, Gansey seemed to be everywhere. He was in two more of Adam’s classes on the first day, Charms and Ancient Runes. Adam ran into Gansey, more or less literally, on the way to Charms, as they both left the library after their free period. Adam had spent the hour reading his Arithmancy textbook. He wondered what Gansey had been doing.

_Probably researching dead Welsh kings_ , he thought. Gansey had hung back after History of Magic to talk to Professor Malory, and Adam had next seen him sprinting up the stairs to get to his 11 o’clock class.

That had been Arithmancy, apparently. He told Adam about the lesson in great detail as they walked to Charms. Adam once again found himself sitting next to Gansey, but Gansey was much better at Charms than he was at Herbology. As they practiced color-change charms on swatches of cloth, he quizzed Adam about his schedule. Adam managed to remain polite and did not ask about Gansey’s grades. Gansey, for his part, used his winning smile and his skill at turning things purple to keep Professor Flitwick happy despite the fact they were chatting more than they were casting spells. Adam had tried not to get drawn into the conversation, but he _liked_ talking about school. He and Gansey seemed to have that in common.

“The professor is a bit-- well-- you’ll see,” he said, having found his way back to talking about Arithmancy. “But it’s some really fascinating stuff. I read a book this summer about the connection between the number twelve and--” Whatever name he said had too many W’s for Adam to comprehend it properly, and besides that it was drowned out by the bell.

“Anyway,” Gansey said brightly, “see you at four!” He left the classroom with the rest of the Ravenclaws.

As Adam left the room he heard the boys in Kavinsky’s gang snickering, and resisted the temptation to run to his next class.

  


Arithmancy and Ancient Runes were elective subjects, and as such were far smaller classes than Adam was used to. The other Slytherin boys in his year were all absent from both classes, which made life significantly more peaceful. (The girls tended to leave him alone.) There were only nine students in Ancient Runes, in a classroom designed to hold three times that number. There was space enough that Adam didn’t _have_ to sit next to Gansey, but he caught Adam’s eye and moved his books out of the way meaningfully, so Adam couldn’t see a way around it.

“How was it? Arithmancy, I mean?” Gansey asked.

“Good,” Adam replied, but was saved from having to say more as their teacher, Professor Whelk, entered the room.

Adam remembered the start-of-term speech from his first year, when the Headmistress had introduced the new Professor of Ancient Runes and the thin, ill-looking man in robes as tattered as Adam’s own had stood to receive bit of polite applause. Only now that he saw the man up close did he realize Whelk must be the youngest teacher at the school. Even with those tired lines around his eyes Adam guessed that he was no older than twenty-five.

Professor Whelk stood silently at the head of the class for a moment, glancing at each student in turn as if looking for someone in particular.

He sighed. “Welcome to Ancient Runes,” he said. “Open your textbooks to Chapter One.”

What followed was a 50-minute lecture on the background of the subject, much of which Adam already knew, as he had read nearly half the textbook on the Hogwarts Express yesterday. He heard the scratching of a quill and glanced over to see Gansey scribbling notes on a sheet of parchment.

_Two history lectures in one day_ , Adam thought. _He must be in heaven._

Gansey was far more engrossed than anyone else in the class. Most of them were Ravenclaws; they were at least making a show of taking the occasional note, but otherwise they exchanged dissatisfied glances and read ahead in their textbooks. One boy was very obviously reading his Muggle Studies homework under the table; Adam recognized a diagram of a car engine. The two Slytherin girls sitting in front of him were both nodding off.

Whelk either did not notice or did not care that he had lost his audience. Adam was leaning towards guessing the latter, as the professor wrapped up his lecture just moments before the bell rang, and instructed them, in a bored voice, to complete the exercises on page 12 to hand in on Wednesday.

“That was interesting,” Gansey said, following Adam to the stairs. From their conversation in Charms class Adam was pretty sure Gansey ought to be heading the opposite direction. He didn’t know what Gansey hoped to gain by hanging around to chat.

“Most of it was straight from the textbook,” Adam told him.

“Was it?”

“Except for the bit about goblins. That was new.”

“Interesting,” Gansey said again. “I wonder if he’s all right… He doesn’t look well, does he?”

“I think he always looks like that,” said Adam. “Listen, I’d better go…”

“Right! Me too. See you tomorrow!” He grinned at Adam and turned away. Adam watched him go, confused and exasperated. As he headed downstairs, he considered the differences between the smile Gansey flashed to appease teachers, and the one he’d just seen.

  


Adam had Wednesday mornings off, so he spent a few uneventful, Gansey-free hours in the library. He finished all the homework he’d been assigned the day before. Around midmorning, Noah arrived.

On Adam’s first night at Hogwarts, he and the other first-years had received a shock when several dozen ghosts came streaming out of the walls of the Entrance Hall. By his third week of school, ghost sightings were hardly a novelty, but he had still been caught by surprise when he’d ducked behind a tapestry to avoid some Gryffindors and walked right through the ghost of a boy.

That was how he’d met Noah. Unlike many of the Hogwarts ghosts, he did not attend meals, or roam the corridors as students moved between classes. He didn’t haunt a particular place in the castle, like the ghost of the second-floor girls’ toilet, or represent one of the Houses. Noah could be found in the quieter corners of the castle, staying out of sight of the noisy crowds of students. Adam supposed that, as a former Hogwarts student himself, Noah might not want reminders of who he’d been in life. (This was only a theory, because Noah got very vague whenever Adam asked him about his past or the circumstances of his death. The only clue was the smudgy bruise on Noah’s cheek, which got darker and nastier the longer Adam looked at it.)

Noah was very interested in Gansey. He laughed all through the story of Adam’s first Herbology lesson, but had a much more charitable interpretation of it than Adam.

“If he only wanted you to help him in class, he’d have left you alone after that,” he pointed out. “It sounds like he’s just being friendly.”

“I don’t need _or_ want him to be friendly,” Adam said. “I’ve got better things to do with my time than chat about-- Owain Something-or-other-- and I’m sure he has, too. I’d rather be left alone.”

“Why? He’s clever like you, and interesting, and you like him, so I don’t see why--”

“I don’t,” said Adam, “like him.”

Noah stared at him. He was able to stare longer than a living person, and Adam gave up and turned back to his book long before Noah looked away.

“I didn’t mean it like… Well, whatever. I’ll leave you alone, then.” He drifted backwards through a bookshelf and out of sight.

That wasn’t what Adam had meant, but it gave him more time to study, anyway.

  


With the addition of his new classes, Adam had a lot more homework now than he’d had the previous year. He didn’t mind being busy, though; the awareness that every assignment he handed in and every exam he passed was another step away from the house he’d grown up in propelled him through late nights of studying. He liked the classes, too, even though Whelk continued to be dull, Divination was sometimes incomprehensible, and Professor Johnson, the witch who taught Arithmancy, was extremely strict. Adam managed to settle back into a routine before he was midway through September.

Noah reappeared, a few days later, and by unspoken agreement they did not talk about Gansey again. Adam endeavored to remain polite and friendly towards Gansey, who did not (as Adam had hoped) grow tired of sitting next to him after a few days.

Adam had class with Gansey every day, usually more than once. Gansey left him alone during History of Magic and Astronomy. Adam was happy to sit elsewhere, because during those classes, Gansey sat with Ronan Lynch. Aside from having a rich father (like Gansey), Lynch had two brothers at Hogwarts who were just as popular and talented as he and Gansey were. Lynch was also famous (people said) for holding the record for most detentions served in a single Hogwarts term. He was a Beater for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and had broken his older brother’s arm in last year’s Gryffindor-Slytherin match. Adam had never spoken to Ronan Lynch in his life, and wanted to keep it that way.

For the most part, everything was fine. Adam thought he heard Kavinsky refer to Gansey as _Parrish’s boyfriend_ , but he pretended he hadn’t. Noah gave Adam tips for his Potions homework, but claimed it had been “several centuries” since his last Charms lesson and couldn’t help him study for quizzes. The embroidering girl got her hands on a sewing needle somewhere and, when she caught Adam watching her sew, told him _Muggle Studies_ in a tone that said _Mind your own damn business_. Gansey talked at Adam about subjects ranging from medieval Wales to Transfiguration theory to Quidditch. Sometimes, Adam forgot that he and Gansey were not really friends and talked back. Gansey responded as if he were genuinely interested in what Adam had to say.

The only person who seemed able to make Gansey shut up about Glendower (his favorite topic of conversation) was the Transfiguration teacher, Professor McGonagall.

“Mr. Gansey, we are discussing Transfiguration at present. I’m sure that whatever you have to tell Mr. Parrish about Glendower, it can wait until after class, if indeed he has not already heard it a dozen times.”

The rest of the class chuckled at this. Gansey took it in stride, as he took many things, such as his poor Herbology grades, or when Adam slipped up and said something unkind. He was a carefree sort of person, and Adam wondered what it must be like, to live in complete certainty that everything in life was going to go your way.

  


Adam lost his temper on the last Friday in September. Fridays were his longest day, with a full morning, a full afternoon, and Astronomy in the evening. Friday mornings were also full of Gansey.

So perhaps it was the prospect of squinting through a telescope until 9 o’clock that night, or perhaps it was the feeling that he hadn’t quite written enough for his homework essay on redcaps. It probably had something to do with the way Gansey had greeted him that morning on the way to Herbology, loudly, in his Ganseyest voice, “Parrish!” After three hours of Gansey, Adam ran from the Charms classroom the minute Gansey looked away.

But it was definitely the way Kavinsky’s gang walked into the Great Hall for lunch, smirked at each other, and sat down at the end of the Slytherin table nearest the door, which was where Adam happened to already be sitting.

“Parrish!” Kavinsky said, in a voice that fell several yards short of convincingly friendly.

Adam ignored him.

“How goes the search for Glendower?”

Adam put down his knife and fork and reached for his bag.

Kavinsky laughed. “What’s the hurry? You’re happy to hang around and chat about this shit with your boyfriend Gansey…”

Adam stood up abruptly, jostling the table in his haste. His pumpkin juice spilled on Skov, who sat looming menacingly on his left. He walked quickly out of the Hall, trying very hard not to hear whatever Kavinsky was calling after him. It seemed to be a crude suggestion about where he and Gansey should look for Glendower.

_There’s no way he gets away with shouting like that_ , the calm, logical part of his mind said. Professor McGonagall had a low tolerance for disruptive behavior during meals, and Adam had once seen the head of Slytherin House give an older boy a week’s detention for calling a pair of girls something rude.

The less-logical part of his mind carried him angrily upstairs towards the library. It was usually deserted during the lunch hour. He didn’t want to be around people when he was feeling like this.

It wasn’t the insinuation, which was false, anyway. Except it was, because the suggestion that _Gansey_ might like Adam, for any interpretation of the word _like_ , was so absurd that it made Adam want to punch something. Adam didn’t like wanting to punch things; not punching things was a character trait he was rather proud of in himself.

And if it wasn’t the insinuation, it was the boys making it. They had heard the same speech as he had, their first night at Hogwarts, about how their Houses would be like their families. Well, Adam had no great luck with families. Home was, in his experience, a place to be avoided if at all possible, whether it was the house of his childhood or the dormitory he shared with five boys who’d never said a civil word to him in two years.

The librarian looked up from a stack of returned books when Adam entered and glared at him on principle, then returned to her work. The quiet seeped into him, cushioning his anger, and his breathing, though still shaky, slowed. He found a corner in the Divination section out of view of the front desk and sank to the floor.

His eyes felt hot. He told himself, firmly, that there was absolutely nothing Joseph Kavinsky could say that was worth crying over. It didn’t matter what any of them said. What mattered were his grades, his studies, his spellwork, every time a teacher told him he showed promise. Who cared, he thought, not for the first time, who his parents were or how much money they had? Adam was hardly the only Muggleborn at Hogwarts, or the only one in secondhand robes, but he was also a Slytherin, and he had not yet spoken to anyone who cared to overlook more than two of those things. He had quickly grown tired of trying.

The exception, of course, was Gansey, but Adam didn’t believe that for a second. He didn’t know which of his teachers had put Gansey up to it, but they were wasting their time. It wouldn’t last. Gansey had plenty of friends who were actually _like_ him, with top-of-the-line racing brooms and old family names and brand-new everything else. Gansey had Ronan Lynch and Henry Cheng and Adam didn’t _need_ \--

“Are you all right?”

Gansey stood at the end of the aisle, peeking around the bookcase.

“What are you doing here?” Adam hissed, scrambling to his feet.

“You looked upset when you left the Great Hall,” Gansey said in a carrying whisper. He walked over to where Adam stood. “I came to see if you were all right.”

“I’m fine,” Adam said, because it was none of Gansey’s business if he wasn’t.

“You’ll be pleased to know, Kavinsky’s got himself a detention. The whole lot of them have. For ‘disruption and inappropriate comments’.”

“Great.” When Gansey didn’t leave right away, Adam added, “You can go back and tell Professor Damaris or whoever sent you that I’m fine.”

Gansey looked confused. “Nobody sent me. I just… came to check on you.”

“Well… I’m fine,” he said again, uncomfortably aware that it sounded less convincing every time he said it.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“ _No_. I mean, I’m… I should probably go see if there’s any food left…”

“Oh! That reminds me.” Gansey glanced around, then reached into his bag. He pulled out a bundle and unwrapped it, showing Adam the bread rolls inside. “Sorry, it’s a bit squished…” He offered it to Adam.

Adam stared at it. “Why?”

Gansey shrugged. “Figured you didn’t get a chance to eat much, before…”

“I didn’t ask for your help.” The words were out before he considered if they were wise.

Gansey looked taken aback. “I… Well, it seemed the sort of thing friends do, that’s all.”

“We’re not friends.”

“We’re not?” he sounded genuinely confused.

“Look, I don’t know who put you up to this, but I don’t need your help and I don’t want your _pity_.”

His voice rose a little, unintentionally, on the last word. Several rows away, the librarian cleared her throat meaningfully.

Quietly, Gansey said, “If this is about… what Kavinsky was saying… it was never my intention--”

“It’s not about Kavinsky, it’s about _you_. You think you can just barge into people’s lives and they’ll be so glad to be graced by your presence, The Amazing Gansey, that they’ll just go along with-- whatever-- but you can’t, and I’d prefer it if you’d just leave me alone.”

Gansey looked down at the bread in his still-outstretched hand, then back up at Adam. His expression had shifted from the one of kind concern he’d been wearing when he arrived; Adam couldn’t read it anymore. Finally, he spoke.

“If that’s what you want, fine,” he said curtly. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘put me up to this’, I just told Professor Malory that History Club needed more members and he said he thought you were clever and bored. I’m only here because I thought he was right. I don’t-- Pity-- I’ll leave if you want but for Merlin’s sake, do you want this bread or not?”

He sounded genuinely annoyed, an emotion so unexpected from Gansey that, startled, Adam reached out and took the bread-filled napkin from him.

Looking at the bread, rather than at Gansey, he said, “I didn’t know Hogwarts _had_ a History Club.”

“It barely does. Almost all our members have either graduated or quit to pursue other interests.”

“And, um, what does a History Club do?” He opened his bookbag and carefully wedged the napkin bundle in next to his Potions textbook, because it was something to do, and it kept him from having to look at Gansey.

“We talk about history.”

“Does ‘history’ here mean ‘Glendower’?”

“Well, yes.”

“And who’s ‘we’?”

“Er…”

Unable to pretend to be rearranging the contents of his bag any longer, Adam looked up. Gansey was gazing at a shelf full of palmistry books in a way that failed to be casual.

“Who’s ‘we’?” he repeated.

“Me. And Ronan Lynch,” Gansey added quickly, as one might rip off a bandage.

“I don’t know…” Adam said, but he did know, already backtracking from the new idea that _Gansey might be genuine_ and _they really could be friends_ in the face of _Ronan Lynch hates Slytherins on principle and plays the most violent position in Quidditch_.

“And Noah!” Gansey said, eagerly and a bit too loudly. The librarian’s _shush_ carried across the shelves. Gansey winced. “Have you met Noah?”

“Noah-- you mean the ghost?” Adam instinctively avoided Lynches, but he _liked_ Noah.

“Yes! He comes sometimes, I never invited him, he just shows up…” He trailed off, eyeing Adam nervously. His expression was open again, Adam realized, not closed like it had been when Adam was angry. “Anyway, we meet on Tuesday evenings after dinner in the History of Magic classroom. I’d better go, I’ve got… something, I’m sure…” He attempted a smile that fell several feet short of his usual brilliant one. He started to turn away.

“Gansey…”

Gansey turned back.

“Thanks. And… sorry.”

Gansey shrugged. “No, you’re right, I should’ve just invited you like-- like a normal person would. See you later?”

“Astronomy tonight,” Adam said.

With a small wave and a split-second smile, Gansey turned and headed down the aisle.

As he disappeared around the corner, Adam wondered at the idea that _Gansey_ thought of himself as not-normal.

“He really is very nice,” said a soft voice behind him.

Adam whipped around and saw Noah hovering there.

“How much of that did you hear?” Adam demanded.

Managing to look both gloomy and smug at the same time, Noah replied, “A bit.”

“You never said you knew him.”

“You never asked.”

“Do you really go to that History Club of his?”

“Yes. It’s interesting.”

“Did you go-- before?”

“No.” He paused long enough that Adam thought that was all he was going to say. Then he added, “It wasn’t interesting. Before.”

Adam knew better than to push that line of questioning.

“Are you going to go?” Noah asked.

Adam shrugged.

“Or are you going to sit alone in the library until curfew like you do every other night of the week?”

Adam glared at him, but didn’t bother to argue. Suddenly, an unpleasant thought occurred to him.

“Did _you_ tell him to talk to me?”

“No,” said Noah, sounding offended. “I mind my own business. It must have been Malory, like he said. For some reason it never occurred to them to ask _me_ … Anyway, you should go, it’s fun.”

“I have a lot of schoolwork,” Adam said.

Noah snorted, which was impressive coming from someone without a real respiratory system.

“If you’re going to eat that roll, you should do it. It’ll be the bell soon.” He floated upwards, over Adam’s head, across the tops of the bookshelves, and out of sight.

**Author's Note:**

> Index of useful information  
> Professor of Transfiguration/Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall  
> Professor of Herbology: Neville Longbottom, 28  
> Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts/Head of Gryffindor House: Maura Sargent  
> Professor of History of Magic: Roger Malory  
> Professor of Charms/Head of Ravenclaw House: Filius Flitwick  
> Professor of Arithmancy: Calla Johnson  
> Professor of Ancient Runes: Barrington Whelk  
> Professor of Muggle Studies/Head of Slytherin House: Eleftheria Damaris, 27  
> This last is an individual of my own invention (“OC”) because seriously, the Raven Cycle has a shortage of adults. It’s hard to staff a school out of the existing characters. Professor Damaris is half-blood and her grandmother is a retired Quidditch star. She spends her free time collecting rare coins and trying to convince her partner to get a cell phone.
> 
> Discussion questions  
> 1\. What does the bread symbolize?  
> 2\. The title is a play on words. This isn’t a question, I just wanted to make sure you noticed.  
> 3\. Is Blue in this story?  
> 4\. What does it say about the author that she drew up an elaborate Hogwarts timetable to help her write Harry-Potter-based fan fiction?  
> 5\. Do you want to read more stories set in this AU? This is a trick question, because of course you do, and even if you don’t, I’m writing them anyway.


End file.
